


don't give up (don't grow old)

by shineyma



Series: wild hearts [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia Ward has problems, too. Her overprotective father is less than ten percent of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't give up (don't grow old)

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thanks for all for all of the comments and kudos! They mean a lot. :)
> 
> Second, I still have no idea what's happening here, but somehow this is now a series. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning my soulmate au--that's still definitely happening, and definitely my priority. I'm just...weirdly kid!fic inspired, this weekend.
> 
> Third, the title is from Daughtry's "Long Live Rock & Roll" and it's totally a coincidence that the first fic's title was from a Daughtry song, too.
> 
> Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

Despite what her sister would have you believe, Lydia Ward is _not_ a snob. Just because McKenna is her best, and pretty much _only_ , friend—just because Lydia has actively avoided making any others—does not mean she’s a snob.

She’s _selective_ , okay? She’s a girl of particularly discerning taste, she’s not gonna spend her time with just _anyone_. It’s not Lydia’s fault that every other student at Lee Academy is completely boring.

(She knows it worries her parents. She’s heard them talking sometimes, late at night when she and McKenna are supposed to be asleep:

“She just used to be so _outgoing_ , Grant, I don’t know—”

“Kids change, Jem. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”

“Say that again _without_ pacing. Maybe I’ll believe you.”

“I’m more concerned with how much trouble she’s getting into at school. Has McKenna said anything?”

“No, but you know those two. It’s the girls against the world. If McKenna knows anything, she won’t be sharing until things are very dire.”

“Well, that’s something, at least.”)

Lydia _does_ get in her fair share of trouble at school, but that’s not her fault, either. Okay, well, technically it is, but…she has a good reason! Kind of.

The truth is, she’s bored out of her mind at Lee Academy. It’s not that the classes are easy—although they kind of are—it’s just that she doesn’t _care_. What does it matter how many judges are on the Supreme Court? They’re all a bunch of corrupt, self-serving jerks anyway. And what kind of difference is knowing how to change mass to Moles going to make in her life?

McKenna doesn’t get it. She _loves_ school. She wants to go to MIT and study particle physics, and that’s probably exactly what she’s gonna do. She can’t possibly understand the way Lydia’s mind works, how it just checks out as soon as her teachers start talking, and she has to find other things to occupy it. Unfortunately, those ‘other things’ are usually trouble.

There are a lot of things McKenna doesn’t get. McKenna is Lydia’s sister and best friend, and they’ll have each other’s backs to the very end, but for all that, they don’t actually have much in common. Just like McKenna can’t understand Lydia’s disinterest in school, Lydia can’t understand McKenna’s fascination with all things academic. Lydia _also_ can’t understand McKenna’s interest in guys.

Sure, Lydia has crushes. Mostly on celebrities, yeah, but it’s not her fault that there are no viable prospects at Lee Academy. (Aside from Zane O’Shea, and McKenna’s got that locked down. Kind of. If Zane ever stops flinching every time he sees her—that conversation with Dad did _not_ go well.)

But Lydia’s not interested in romance right now. For one thing, she’s fifteen. It can wait. And for another thing, Lydia’s already in love—with _music_.

“Okay, but you can’t _make out_ with music,” McKenna points out.

“Maybe you can,” Lydia argues. “Has anyone ever _tried_?”

McKenna pauses, then shakes her head. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Lydia says. “Never mind. Point taken. But, still. Music is _clearly_ superior.”

“Not hardly,” McKenna disagrees. “Name _one_ way music beats dating.”

“Well, for one thing, Dad’s not gonna _shoot_ anyone over me playing guitar.”

“Technically,” McKenna says, sitting up. “He didn’t shoot anyone over me dating, either.”

“ _Technically_ ,” Lydia mocks. “You haven’t _done_ any dating. One make-out session, no matter how hot, does not a date make. And you _saw_ how badly he took the making out. When it comes to actual dating, you’re screwed.”

For a second it looks like McKenna’s going to argue, but then she just sighs and flops back down on the bed.

“I _know_ ,” she says mournfully. “I’m _never_ gonna be able to date anyone.”

“And thus, music is superior,” Lydia gloats. But she feels bad over McKenna’s clear misery, so she offers, “You’ll be able to get away with it once you’re at MIT.”

“Maybe,” McKenna sighs. “If Dad doesn’t have anyone spying on me.”

Unfortunately, it’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. Their Dad has a lot of friends in a lot of places, and it’s not out of the question that he might ask some of them to keep an eye on his teenage daughter, all alone in another state.

“Good point,” Lydia says. She strums absently at her guitar. “Not too late to switch to music, Kenny.”

“Yes, it is,” McKenna disagrees. “Music’s _your_ thing.”

That’s true.

Lydia’s obsession with music started when she was nine. McKenna had just been skipped ahead two grades, leaving Lydia feeling abandoned and stupid—something she wasn’t great at hiding. Her parents decided that she needed something of her own to feel proud of, something that McKenna wasn’t involved in, and, at the school counselor’s recommendation, enrolled Lydia in music lessons.

She fell in love the first time she played a chord, and she’s never looked back. Six years later, she takes vocal lessons, guitar lessons, and drum lessons, and she’s working on convincing her parents to let her take keyboard lessons, too.

Of course, they keep making all these unreasonable demands like ‘two full weeks without getting detention’ and ‘no skipping class for a month,’ so it’s slow going.

McKenna rolls on to her stomach and props her chin in her hands. “What’s that you’re playing? It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” Lydia says graciously. “I call it ‘Ode to Kenny’s Terrible Life Choices.’”

“You’re not funny,” McKenna says, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, though, what is it?”

“Just a little something new I’m working on,” Lydia says. “Needs drums, I think. Bum-ba, bum-ba, dum-da-bum-bum, ba- _dum_ -ba, something like that.”

McKenna stares at her blankly. “If you say so.”

Even simplifying the music she writes in her head is no use, when it comes to McKenna—she just doesn’t have an ear for music. Lydia tries not to feel too smug about that.

“Trust me,” she says. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Well, obviously,” McKenna says. “If _you’re_ writing it.”

“Aw, Kenny,” Lydia coos. “That’s so sweet!”

“Whatever, it’s true,” McKenna dismisses. “You’re awesome and you know it.”

“I do know it,” she agrees. “And you’re awesome, too.”

“Well, naturally.”

“I’m so glad to have such modest daughters,” Dad says from the doorway.

“You love us,” Lydia says, grinning at him.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” McKenna agrees.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Dad admits, giving them one of his fond little half-smiles. But it quickly fades. “Kenny, can I have a minute with your sister?”

McKenna looks at Lydia with wide eyes, a silent ‘what did you do now?’ and Lydia shrugs in return, honestly clueless.

“Sure, Dad,” McKenna says. She sits up and slides off the bed. “I’ll go see if Mom ever got lunch started.”

“She didn’t,” Dad tells her. “She’s still on the phone with Uncle Fitz.”

“Great,” McKenna sighs. “Sandwiches for everyone, then. I’m on it.”

“Thank you,” Dad says, squeezing her shoulder as she passes him. He doesn’t enter the room after she’s gone; he just stands in the doorway, looking around the room like he’s never seen it before.

“Dad?” Lydia prompts after a minute. She glances around the room, too, wondering what’s caught his attention, but it looks the same as ever: McKenna’s bed against the far wall, Lydia’s next to the door, closet, vanity, desk, bookcase…

“You know,” Dad says. “Your mom and I didn’t want you two to share a room.”

“I remember,” she says. She remembers very well the weeks of endless campaigning she and McKenna did in the lead-up to the move. “You never said why.”

Dad laughs a little. “We thought you’d change your minds. We were sure that as soon as the novelty wore off, you’d be begging for separate rooms. We didn’t want to get you settled in only to have to move one of you out three weeks later.”

“And here we are, eight years later,” Lydia laughs. “Wait, is that why the spare room stayed empty for so long?”

It’s only in the last few years that the spare room has been used for anything other than storage. These days it mostly serves as Lydia’s music room.

“Yeah, we were saving that for one of you,” Dad confirms. He drums his fingers on the doorframe. “We didn’t want to fall into the trap of treating you like the same person. We wanted to be sure we took into account that you were two different girls, with different likes and dislikes.”

Lydia has no idea where this is going. “Well, you do a great job of that.”

“I’m not so sure,” Dad sighs.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks, lost.

Dad finally enters the room, taking a seat on the stool at the vanity table and wheeling it closer to Lydia’s bed.

“Your principal called,” he says.

Uh oh. Lydia tightens her grip on her guitar, a little worried that it’s about to be taken away again.

“Dad—”

“He’s of the opinion that Lee Academy isn’t the right fit for you,” Dad continues. “And it’s occurred to your mom and me that he might be right.”

“What?” Lydia breathes. Oh no. Has she finally pushed too far? Skipped one too many classes? It’s been a running joke in the family for years that Lydia’s next stop is military school—are they _actually_ going to send her there?

“McKenna’s been served well by Lee Academy,” Dad says. “She’s had a lot of success, and she’s very happy there. But you’re not, are you?”

Lydia shakes her head silently.

“We know you’ve been having trouble at school, but we’ve been dismissing it as a phase,” Dad says. “Lee Academy’s advanced classes work well for McKenna, and we’ve been acting like they’d do the same for you, if only you’d put the work in. And that was wrong of us.”

Okay, so maybe she’s not in trouble. But she still has no idea where this is going.

“Your mom and I promised ourselves we wouldn’t treat you girls like the same person, but that’s exactly what we’ve been doing. So we’ve talked it over,” Dad pauses and pulls something out of his pocket. “And we thought we’d offer you the opportunity to go to a different school. One that might be a better fit.”

He hands over the brochure he’s holding, and Lydia nearly chokes on her next breath when she sees the name blazoned across the front. The McCreary Institute for the Performing Arts.

“Dad—is this—what?” she stammers, gobsmacked. The McCreary Institute is the best performing arts school in the _country_.

“Your principal has a friend on the admissions board at the Institute,” Dad says, smiling a little at her reaction. “Apparently, he sent them the video of your performance at last year’s talent show, and they were very impressed. They’ve offered you provisional acceptance.”

“Provisional?” Lydia asks, latching on to that in absence of anything else to say. She has no idea what to even _begin_ thinking about this.

“You’ll have to audition,” Dad says. “And apparently there’s an interview, I don’t know. We didn’t want to make any plans without talking to you first.”

Lydia looks down at the brochure, takes in the pictures of students smiling and playing instruments, looks over the list of awards and acclamations the school has won. It’s an amazing opportunity. But…

“What about McKenna?” she asks, a little helplessly.

Dad sighs and stands, leaving the stool to sit next to Lydia on the bed. She sets her guitar aside and scoots closer, leaning against him the way she used to when she was little, listening to him read a bedtime story.

“I don’t think McKenna wants you to be unhappy,” he says. “Do you?”

“No,” she agrees. Especially not for the sake of attending the same school, when they don’t even have any classes together. “But…”

Dad takes a deep breath. “You don’t have to decide right away. Next year is McKenna’s last before she graduates. If you wanna stay at Lee until she’s gone, that’s fine. If you wanna finish out this year, that’s fine. If you don’t want to leave Lee at all—that’s okay, too. But _something_ has to change, Liddy. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Lydia says. “I know.”

It’s barely November, and she’s already had eighteen detentions this semester. She’s bored out of her mind at Lee, not to mention miserable, and the idea of leaving is really, really attractive. But even if she doesn’t have classes with McKenna, and hasn’t since fourth grade, she’s used to knowing that her sister is right there, just down the hall.

“Think it over,” Dad suggests. “Talk to McKenna. And you know you can talk to your mom and me.”

“I know,” she repeats. “I will.”

“Okay,” Dad says. He briefly tightens the arm he has around her shoulders, then lets go and stands. “I’ll leave you to think about it. We’ll have a family meeting tomorrow night and see where we stand, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, looking back down at the brochure. “What happens if I say yes?”

“If you say yes, then we call the Institute on Monday and schedule your audition,” Dad says. “You could be a student there by the end of the week.”

“I might not get in,” she points out without looking up.

Dad scoffs. “Only if they’re crazy.”

Lydia laughs and leans over to set the brochure on her nightstand. Then she stands, careful not to knock her guitar off her bed, and hugs him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says quietly.

Dad hugs her back. “I’m sorry it took us so long to think of it.”

She hugs him for a moment longer—Dad gives the absolute _best_ hugs; only Mom can match him—then steps back.

“If I do transfer,” she says. “I promise I’ll stop messing around. I’ll do all my homework, and give it my all, and never get another detention again.”

“Well, we’re not expecting miracles,” Dad says, smiling a little. “Just as long as you do your best, that’s all we ask.”

“I will,” she says. “I promise.”

“Good,” Dad says. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Lydia reflects, as she flops back down on her bed and grabs the brochure off the nightstand, that she’s never heard Dad say so much at once. He must feel really strongly about this if he said all that instead of just giving her the brochure and telling her to think about it.

She props her elbow against her knee and her chin in her hand as she studies the brochure. The list of offered classes is _amazing_ , as is the recital schedule. And the opportunity to study things that actually _interest_ her…

There are normal courses, too, but she thinks they would be easier to stand if she had music lessons for the rest of the day.

Also, there’s no denying that attending the Institute would give her a leg up. She’s never told anyone except McKenna, but Lydia has dreams of attending Julliard someday, and everyone knows Julliard gives first consideration to students from the McCreary Institute.

She bites at her thumbnail. Classes that appeal to her interests. Class _mates_ she has something in common with. Opportunities for advancing her dreams.

It would be perfect, if not for McKenna.

Speak of the devil. McKenna enters the room and closes the door behind her.

“So?” she asks. “What do you think?”

Lydia frowns. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” McKenna scoffs, throwing herself on her bed. “Like I would be able to keep that from you. No, Mom told me while Dad was telling you.”

“Divide and conquer,” Lydia nods. “Smart.”

“So?” McKenna presses. “You’re gonna do it, right?”

Lydia looks at the brochure again.

“Lydia,” McKenna says.

“I don’t know,” she says. She takes a deep breath. “It’s an _amazing_ opportunity. It’s everything I could ask for.”

“But?”

“But what about you?” she asks. “I’ve never—I’ve never been alone before.”

McKenna sighs. “You’re not gonna be alone, silly. I’m still gonna be right here, sleeping across the room. Eating across the table. Outshining you in every possible way. Not to mention—”

“Yeah, okay,” Lydia interrupts. “Outshine me? Keep fooling yourself, there.”

“My point is,” McKenna says, rolling her eyes. “You going to a different school isn’t going to change anything for us. We’re sisters. For good.”

“For good,” Lydia agrees. It’s an old vow, the way they used to seal their pinky promises when they were little. “I guess so, I just…”

“You just nothing,” McKenna says. “I’m not gonna let you be miserable on my account, and you know it. Why are you _really_ hesitating?”

Lydia really isn’t a snob. She really _is_ just selective about who she spends her time with. The problem is, the only person she’s ever felt worth making the effort for is McKenna, and they’ve been best friends and sisters for so long…

She doesn’t even remember meeting McKenna. She knows, from what their parents have told them, that they became best friends on Lydia’s first day at Lee Academy, after she and Mom moved here from London. But she doesn’t remember _how_. She’s never really wanted to make new friends, so she hasn’t bothered.

What if she _can’t_? What if she goes to the Institute and she meets all sorts of awesome people worthy of befriending, and then doesn’t know how to go about it? What if she fails miserably, and everyone thinks she’s a total freak?

Or worse, what if she _doesn’t_ find anyone worth befriending? At Lee, everyone knows her. She’s the ‘cold’ half of the Ward twins, as everyone calls them—even though they look nothing alike and Lydia is a month and three days older—and no one takes it personally when she ignores them. What if students at the Institute do?

Lydia has no idea how to express these fears to McKenna, but, as always, she doesn’t really need to. McKenna reads them in her face.

“Liddy,” she says. “You’ve _never_ had a problem making people like you. The _problem_ is that you’re a snob, and you never like them back.”

“Not a snob,” Lydia mutters.

McKenna ignores her. “If there are people at the Institute worth your time, you’ll be friends before you know it. And if there aren’t, well, business as usual, right?”

“And if they take it personally?” she asks.

“Screw ‘em,” McKenna shrugs. She bounces off her bed and crosses the room, pulling Lydia up. “Anyone gives you trouble…”

“You’ll take care of them?” Lydia guesses, a little mockingly.

“Hell, no,” McKenna laughs. “I’ll sic Aunt Skye on ‘em.”

Lydia snorts, and McKenna smiles.

“It’s scary, right?” she asks. “They’ll be quaking in their boots.”

“Whatever,” Lydia says, and hugs her. “Thank you. Even if you do suck at comforting people.”

“Shut up, you know you feel better.”

She really does.


End file.
